Braves` Park Now A Tomahawk Shop

September 14, 1991|By CRAIG DAVIS, Senior Writer

In the beginning there was America`s Team.

Now it is the land of free enterprise, home of the Braves.

What a country, where a ballclub can go from ineptitude to the sublimity of a pennant race -- possibly the first worst-to-first turnabout in the National League -- in one season. And where a foam-rubber salesman can ride with it from anonymity to fame and fortune in less than a month.

Call it the phenomenon of the tomahawk.

Maybe it all comes crashing down on red Georgia clay. At this point nobody in Atlanta would complain. Least of all Paul Braddy, father of the foam tomahawk that has turned Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium into the Chop House of the South.

His story is even more astounding than the team`s. The Braves have been working at their thing all season.

Braddy, 32, of the Atlanta suburb of Peachtree City, was between sales calls late last month, listening to the Braves on the radio while driving from Nashville to Chattanooga. Announcer Skip Caray remarked that Braves fans ought to have toy tomahawks to accent their Tomahawk Chop, which has become the trademark of Braves uprisings.

HEY SKIP, FOAM HOME

A fellow motorist may have noticed a light flash on in Braddy`s car at that moment. Not the domelight. This was a brainstorm.

When he got back to Atlanta, Braddy fashioned a crude prototype out of urethane foam and took it to the Braves. The team ordered 5,000 to start with. It has quickly become the hottest commodity in Atlanta since grits.

Braddy has a plant in Griffin, Ga., turning out 8,000 tomahawks a day. The Braves are passing out 40,000 at today`s game with L.A. It has been such a bonanza for Braddy he quit his $60,000-a-year job as sales manager with a foam firm. Still has ample profit to give a percentage to a children`s charity.

``They get their piece, I get mine and the fans are happy. It`s an American success story, and I`m happy to be the guy,`` he said.

Give Braddy credit. He was a mega-fan when the Braves were mucho horrendous, often among the few thousand diehards watching the team get scalped night after night.

Imagine how he felt this week in the crowd with thousands waving his tomahawks while three Atlanta pitchers combined for a no-hitter.

``It gives you goosebumps to think I did that,`` he said. ``Of course none of it could have happened if it wasn`t for the Braves.``

BLAME IT ON DEION

It is a curious aspect of Americana the way a city responds to a team on the trail of a title, especially one as notoriously downtrodden as the Braves have been.

Every unlikely title chase must its own icon. Minnesota waved Homer Hankies. San Francisco had the spirit of Humm-Baby. The Bash Brothers rocked Oakland.

Now Atlanta, bonkers over the Braves, is up in arms with spongy tomahawks. Someone in the center-field seats had one about 10 feet long the other night.

The official Braddy model is 18 inches with a 7-inch blade. Flimsy as a noodle but a lethal psychological weapon in the hands of a frenzied crowd.

The inspiration came from south of the border -- the Florida-Georgia border. Braddy was at the home opener when a handful of fans greeted former Florida State star Deion Sanders with the traditional Seminole salute. It spread like a virus.

The Chop was Sanders` biggest contribution to the cause. He went back to football while Braddy became ``a semi cult hero here.``

The great irony: Braddy attended Auburn University, FSU`s arch-rival.

The lesson is, years from now when the Florida Marlins rise to contention, it would pay to be the first to market a goofy marlinspike hat.

Braddy is getting calls from all over for interviews. Even a request from Canada to produce an icon for the Toronto Blue Jays.

Imagine if the Braves and Jays end up playing for the championship. It could be the first foam-and-foam World Series.